Ain't No Rest For The Wicked
by LightsWillGuideYouHome
Summary: It was those little moments that created this monster. A monster so Wicked, and well... some times, you have to take life in your own hands. Inspired by "Dexter" from SHOWTIME.


Ain't No Rest For The Wicked

Don't own anything, don't want to.

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**It was the little moments in his past that made him this way. Those little moments when he was child, and his father refused to go outside with him to play quidditch. It was in the moments when his mom would cough up blood from the smoke that charred her throat raw. His father hated her fondness of a smoke and drink, ('No fair lady should over-indulge herself in anything...') the smell of metallic blood as his father smacked her around. It was the moments when he was whipped for playing with the house elves, who were his only friends as a child. In the moment of fear that intoxicated him before the pain engulfed him. He was always afraid. Always. His parents' lives and his own were never set in stone. Those moments had created this monster. And this monster, is so wicked. **

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_I ask you myself, would you lie idle if a beast threatened your existence? If a bear cornered you in the forest and you had no where to run, would you simply let it maw you? Or would you fight back with every last breath in you? It is pretty simple. Living in fear for the past eighteen years, whether from my own flesh and blood or this disgusting creature, I have been afraid. Somehow, it created what I am. I'm not angry, that's the most confusing thing, and I wish I could feel anything. I am not scared anymore…_

_If you call me a vigilante I would have to laugh. I am not doing this for the greater good. It is all for myself. Call me selfish, I couldn't pretend to care. _

"Fenrir Greyback, for your crimes you find yourself here." Draco said lamely. He was sitting in a wooden chair outside the infamous dungeons of the Malfoy Manor. Fenrir, just recently woken, found himself constrained by magic on a large metal table, almost nude minus his under-shorts. Little plastic pops resounded as he struggled.

"What is this?" He barked suddenly angry, frightened. He thrashed about uselessly; his yellow eyes flashing menacingly. Draco leaned further back in his chair, a small smile playing his features.

"Bubble wrap. Muggle invention, pretty useful for times like this, you see, the bubbles prevent spillage of… liquid. See the way they are rolled upwards at the edges? It prevents a mess."

"What are you getting on about, you little spoiled brat? I will tear you to shreds." He began squirming. His head was restrained against the table and his eyes were darting around dangerously. "How did I get here?"

_Easily. _

"Potion knocked you out. Wasn't too hard to get you down here, you seem a bit fond of the drink. Tell me, does your misfortune of lycanthropy haunt you, my dear dog?" Draco said in a slow drawl. He then stood from his chair with such great force, it tumbled over. The hollow thud that the wood made as it clambered to the stone floor caused a shrill panic to haunt the death eater. Draco walked around the length of the table until he was leaning over Fenrir's face.

"Let me go you perverse fuck, I swear I will tear you apart and enjoy every second of it." His eyes were murderous. Draco smiled poetically; he lifted a blade, hand carved with elf magic.

"Silver." He murmured to the beast as he pressed the flat of the blade against his cheekbone. Even in Fenrir's human state the flesh burned and mottled. His painful barks reverberated throughout the room.

"Please Malfoy… D-Draco do not do this! What have I done? I can fix it, please!" His body began convulsing as the beast panicked. Draco nodded before taking the blade from Greyback's face.

"Greyback, unfortunately for you, you're a great danger for me. I see the way you are. I watched you taunt, torture and play with your food. It's disgusting. You do not let the people you kill die with dignity. Even worse, you'd kill anyone to save your own skin. As the leader of foul beasts, you must be disposed of. Hopefully your pack will catch the message…" He said calmly as he slapped the burn with leather gloves. Greyback howled first in pain and then laughter.

"You daft boy, they will trace your wand back to you. You will never get away with it…"

_Oh but I can…_

"I never said anything about a wand, now did I?" Draco mumbled as he drove the silver blade in his throat. His throat gurgled as blood rose from the wound and his aged skin blistered with an acidic smell.

_You wont harm me or my family, you traitor. No longer are you the peasant of the __'great' Voldemort. You should thank me really..._

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He sat against the farthest corner away from the body as he stared at toe of the dead werewolf. His jagged toenail brought on a queasiness Draco hadn't felt until now. He felt an itch at his eyebrow and promptly wiped at it. Pulling his hand back he saw a chunk of mangled flesh and its' metallic scent infiltrated his nose. He fought the nausea as long as he could before the bile rose in his throat; he leaned over emptying his stomach.

_What do I do with you, Mr. Greyback?_

He then scourgified his vomit and released the restraints on the dead werewolf. He hovered over his body before heaving the corpse over his shoulder manually before aparating to a remote location in the middle of the woods, far from his manor and far from civilization. He knew potion ingredient collectors roam these woods for specimen every few days; his body would be found then.

_Judge me if you must but I'm not waiting for death… not any longer. _

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"Who is it?" Hermione wondered briefly as she looked over 'The Daily Prophet' latest morning edition. A large, moving picture captured the entire front page. A group of Ministry officials were blocking the majority of the body, minus the gray blotchy feet. Hermione's interest doubled as she read over the article aloud.

The Perfect Murder

Rita Skeeter

The perfect murder? Maybe. The body of an unnamed

victim was found this morning by ingredient seeking

potion makers from 'Rendezvous Remedies'. Not one

fiber, hair, or trace of magic was found on the body.

The identification of the poor soul is currently unknown.

Could this be the work of Muggles? Ministry Officials

decline any comment as they develop further on the

on going investigation. More to come from yours

truly.

Hermione trailed off as she chewed her lip. She sat cross legged on the floor of the Weasley's sitting room peering over the newspaper article. She knew in her heart that this was not caused by a Muggle. No Muggle could have done something so heinous to a member of the Wizarding World. They wouldn't be brave enough to face something so…surreal.

"I bet it was Voldemort," Harry threw out there, his voice going mysterious in the way it always does when he speaks of the creature that destroyed his life. Ron nodded cheekily as he struggled to keep his eyes open. They spent the better half of the night searching for clues that Dumbledore may have left behind, and it has taken its toll on their bodies.

"As far as we know, it could have been a Muggle. Who's to say that one didn't rebel?" Ginny threw in thoughtfully. Hermione smiled despite her close friend's narrow-mindedness.

"Ginny… a Muggle wouldn't have known to leave the bod… victim where Wizards and Witches would find it. Even if they knew that magic existed, how could they possibly know the schedules of ingredient collectors?" Hermione sighed and began to pitch her personal thoughts before the door to the Weasley's shack burst open as Arthur and Lupin barged in, enclosed in a heated discussion.

"Why Greyback? You don't think he soiled his partnership with You-Know-Who? If so this might be a genocide, Arthur! He may want to clean the Wizarding World of … people like me…" Lupin stated exasperated.

"Greyback?" Hermione stated with a bit of relief and excitement, her words leaving her breathless. "As in Fenrir Greyback?" Arthur briefly whipped around, his eyes widening a fraction.

"Children. Now, that's enough eavesdropping, it's bout that time you lot head up stairs. C'mon now, chop chop." He said eagerly to get away from more prying questions. Hermione, Ron and Harry took that opportunity with enthusiasm, excited to talk about their newly discovered information.

"Greyback was murdered? You know what this means right? One less bad guy on the streets, Voldemort or not, I'd like to shake the man's hand that did this." Ron said as he plopped himself down on a small cot in the room that he shared with Harry over the summer. Hermione gawked momentarily before chastising him.

"Ronald, this was a life. He was murdered in cold blood. Only a monster could perform such a dreadful thing. And why does it have to be a man? Maybe it was a spiteful lover? Female's passion crimes are notorious throughout the world." She dropped her argument there, and sighed, looking at Harry, who was leaning casually against a shoddy wall beam.

"I agree the crime is wrong, but it's one less guy who threatens us and our loved ones." Harry murmured as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Ginny decided to knock at that moment to collect Hermione for bed. Hermione turned to look at them over her shoulder as she stepped out of the door.

"We keep this to ourselves, if the Ministry can't find out who did this, we should try. If this murderer isn't afraid to kill one of Voldemort's famed followers, and if it was not indeed Voldemort… this person sounds immensely dangerous. Get some rest, we've got a busy week ahead of us. Good night."

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**That was it! Tell me what you think? I don't like the hero Malfoy some fans write about, and I don't like the evil Malfoy others write about. He isn't evil, he's scared. So this is my twist, tell me what you think! I'll try to follow the characters and make them realistic. If you're looking for a One Shot lemon this isn't for you. Hermione isn't just going to jump in bed with Malfoy, no classy lady would. **

**XOXO**

**Lights ;)**


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